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FP-Forum:November 2009 Writing Contest Results
Nov '09 Writing Contest Results Thread! First Place Bamboo Kitten #668955 Second Place Australis #66771 Third Place Eomira #56774 Honourable Mentions - Janellanti #816805 and Dragon’s Wing #374272 (Fifth Place...) Ailyse #439265 And now for you all to read the winning stories :D First Place The Case of the Pilfering Procyon Lotor Author: Bamboo Kitten #668955 (Reading should be done in 50's style detective intonation.) The name is Paws, detective paws. I was enjoying the bright sunshine streaming through my office window, sipping my cup of double espresso mocha latte when this dame walks in, heels on fire. "heya there, doll face. What can I do you for?" I ask, slowly setting down my cup of Joe, so as not to let her know I hadn't had a case in weeks. "Please sir, I heard you were the best detective in town and I desperately need your help. See, many Fpians have been having their pockets pilfered by a masked bandit and if I discover the how and why I could be greatly rewarded," she says to me, batting her eyelashes, which seems to be the feminine equivalent of please these days. "No sweat" I tell her cool as a cucumber, "This is right up my alley. You got any invalid info on the perp?" She hands me a large envelope. I tear it open and leaf through a stack of prior crimes, their times and dates, and the amount of long green swiped. "I'll buzz you as soon as I've got the culprit's modus operandi," I tell her. She tosses some bread my way, "incentive for a quick job" she says in a coaxing voice. I eyeball her suspiciously, catching the bread in a paw. "No chocolate right? I can't have chocolate, makes me deathly sick." "Nope, just peanut butter," she says. "The real bread will come after the job's done." With that she turns and walks out of the office as if all matters are settled. I sigh, I really am a sucker for bread, the food and the long green kind. Plus I really haven't worked a case in a while. So I pull out a chew-marked pencil from my desk drawer and begin jotting down notes. "this place is antsville," I think to myself as I traverse the grounds of FP; canines and humans everywhere. And of course everyone's got to stop and coo at the dog detective. I buff up my willpower to keep from being distracted and begin interviewing eye-witnesses. "So dolly, what you're telling me is with no rhyme or reason this unidentified raccoon just sneaks up to you, grabs a chunk of green, and dashes away?" "Yes," she replies, nodding her head emphatically at me while busily grooming a very waggy Labrador. "It was all so sudden, I never saw which way he went." "well, thanks for your time." I excuse myself and continue gathering accounts from other victims. After a day of evidence gathering, I realize that this gig is going to require some bait. I stuff my trench coat pockets full of nuggets and begin wandering about like any other casual Fpian. I figure sooner or later, the perp will target me, especially with money practically spilling out of my pockets. So I'm sitting there about 4:00PM engrossed in a game of bingo, when bam! The culprit pulls his bit and I feel my pockets grow lighter. Since I'm a top-notch detective pooch I was at the ready and quickly began the chase. I leaped over dumpsters, dashed around strolling Fpians, and followed the bandit's scent across a green grass field and to an old hollowed-out log. I quickly ducked behind a bush and eyeballed the thief from my hidden vantage point. He had been so busy dashing away, he hadn't even noticed me giving chase. My paws ached, I hadn't burned rubber like that since my junior days as a racing dog before turning to a life of detective work. Too soon for my sore paws, I noticed the perp, a thinnish raccoon, adult, male, emerge from the log and begin trekking back towards FP. I stealthily trailed him as he made his way to the local FP food store. Pulling out my stolen cash from a small black sac, he traded it in for a stack of Lacrima Canned Salmon Dinners. Perplexed, I forgot my sore paws and trotted back to the raccoon's hideaway to await his return. Soon after my arrival Mr. raccoon returned and set the food down near his log pad. He made a low chittering noise and a group of three squealing ankle biters emerged from the log. They gathered around the food and began eating like crazy. "He's stealing money to feed his kids," I concluded to myself and split. "So you see Doll face, it looks like your pilfering perp is just trying to feed his famished family." I tell the dame the next morning in my office. "I see," she says and appears lost in thought. "Well as promised for a job well-done," she says dropping a stack of long green on my desk. As she leaves, I sigh to myself for the sucker that I am and take the stack of cash to the FP store, trading it in for cans of every kind of food. I revisit the raccoon's log and deposit them at the entrance with a note: Dear Mr. Coon, You know, if you just asked, I'm sure the FPians would be more than happy to help you out. They're a nice bunch. Second Place Fetishes Author: Australis #66771 A beam of soft yellow sunlight edged its way across the grass as the sun rose to meet the day. The beam of sunlight crept and flickered until it reached the entrance to a small burrow that was conveniently dug under a rather large rock. This large rock sits in a field in the world of Furry Paws, a field that is home to the Ancient Ruins and the two deer that enjoy the lush green grass that grows there. Sunlight poured into the burrow and the burrow lit up as the darkness vanished at the site of the dawn. The sunlight unveiled what the darkness hid: piles and piles of money that lay in heaps about the burrow. At the back of the burrow a pile of money stirred and quivered. A fuzzy and rather tiny raccoon yawned and stretched as he woke. He looked about his burrow -at his heaps and heaps of FPian’s cash- and with a smile trotted out of his burrow, into the open field around his home. As he came across the field, the deer lifted their heads -still chewing the grass in their mouth- to watch him cross. The raccoon paid them no mind and made his way to the creek on the opposite side of the field. Once he reached the creek, he dunked his paws into the water and proceeded to clean his face. His black bandit markings darkened as he wet them to wash his fur. . . . . . . Why would such a odd creature have so much money you ask. Well this little creature is know as Samson. Samson is a perfectly normal raccoon except for two strange things. One: he is only half the size of a normal raccoon and two he has a huge fetish for FP money! Samson loves everything about it: the way it feels, the way it smells, the way it looks, and even the way it sounds when you lay in it. He is simply fascinated with it! Samson has come to love money so much that he now searches all over the land of Furry Paws to collect his treasure. He may take a little or he may take a lot when he comes to visit the people of FP. He can not help but love to scam it from others. . . . . . . A sudden woof from behind him startled Samson. He turned just in time to see a fluffy red and white animal bow her head to lap up some water from the creek about thirty feet away from him. Samson shook the water from his face and sat to watch this strange creature. The animal perked its ear towards Samson, hearing him shake. She lifted her head and gently wagged her tail at the site of this cute little raccoon. She picked up her ball, that she had dropped at the waters edge before she drank, and walked in the direction of Samson. Samson stood to leave but he was too late, the creature was already in front of him wiggling all over, and drooling slightly. “W w what are you” stuttered Samson. Samson stood, looking quite confused, at the animal until it answered him. The creature dropped the slobbery ball and spook between her constant panting. “I’m a dog, silly” she said, “and my name is Chili. What is your name?” Samson sat back down, looking at the ball in disgust, “A dog you say … I have seen many of you but I never knew what you were called. Why do you carry this, um, ball around with you?” “To play with of course” replied Chili, looking rather annoyed that the raccoon had ignored her question. She pawed at the ball and flopped down in the grass. “So what is your name?” she asked again. “I’m Samson. Samson the raccoon” he stated as the watched Chili roll around in grass. “Well, nice to meet you Samson the raccoon” Chili said with a slight snicker. “Do you know Kahlem … you know queen of FP?” she asked. “Kahlem, um, yeah I know her” Samson answered as he shifted his body to scratch his tummy. “I have never personally seen her, but I know who you are talking about. Why do you ask?” “I ask because she is my human, and lately she has had a problem with a raccoon.” Chili looked at Samson and he stopped scratching to look back at her. “She has had a problem with a raccoon stealing money from other FPians” she eyed him and noticed him tense up. She looked around for her ball and pawed at it once more, then snatched it in her jaws. She lay gnawing at the ball waiting for the raccoon to answer. Samson gulped, looking rather nervous. He looked at Chili (who was still chewing on her ball) then looked away quickly when she looked up at him. “I’m sorry” he whispered. “Sorry for what” Chili asked questioningly. Chili knew what Samson apologized for but she wanted to see if he would tell her himself. So until he did she simply laid sprawled out in the grass and gnawed at her ball. “I’m sorry I took the money, however, I am not willing to give it back” Samson said strongly. He stood up, as if he thought Chili was going to bite him or something. “Okay” she answered quietly. “However if you don’t stop I am going to show my human where you live!” Chili got up and shook herself to rid her fur of the grass that gathered there. “And just how do you think you’re going to find my home without me telling you where it’s at?” Samson asked sarcastically. Samson watched as she shook and backed up a bit as the grass flew off her. “Don’t worry about that Samson the raccoon” she giggled under her breath and retrieved her ball. “Good day to you Samson. Nice meeting you” and with that Chili turned and walked off towards town. Samson sat back down and cocked his head a little in confusion. He decided not to take the chance and waited until Chili was completely out of sight before he headed back across the field to his burrow and his treasure. He looked around uneasily, and with no one in his sight he dropped into the entrance of the burrow. . . . . . . Chili smiled then got up from her hiding spot on the edge of the field. “I told you, Samson the raccoon, I would find your home” she thought to herself. With a flick of her tail she ran excitedly home to tell her human the secret of the unknown bandit that had stolen so much money from the good people of FP. Third Place Rouge Ricky Raccone Author: Eomira #56774 Howls, crying puppies and the angry barks of FP citizens collided in the already chaotic Police Station of the County. Papers flew everywhere as the Rottweiler secretary typed up the reports that flooded in as fast as she was able. It was a hard job with only two paws and no imposable thumbs. Behind the secretary, the calm Captain of the Guard, a tall imposing German Shepherd named Kirk read the reports silently. “Sir! My money is gone! All gone! I was just walking into the Salon, minding my own business and that dirty despicable creature ran off with it!” A lady maltese whined, licking her paws in distress and wiping at her tearstained face. The Secretary handed a box of tear wipes from the desk to her, which the maltese accepted. “Filthy low life! What on earth could a creature like that do with such money?” she sobbed. “Don’t worry ma’am,” Capt. Kirk nodded firmly. “We’re after the villain.” The lady nodded thankfully from behind her tear wipe. “Oh thank you Captain!” Kirk flashed a confident canine smile and patted the secretary on the back. “Keep up the good work and let me know if anything out of the ordinary shows up.” The secretary nodded, pausing only a moment to scratch her head then continued typing. Kirk headed into another room of the Police Station labeled, “Tracking”, inside several basset hounds sat at a long table of computers, each with a head set and studying the maps on the screens. “Anything yet?” Kirk asked. The lead basset just shook his head. “I’m afraid not sir. The thief strikes at random, wherever, whenever. He’s even managed to steal from owners at their own kennels! Unfortunately, the layouts of the building prevent some from seeing and capturing the criminal.” Kirk’s brow furrowed as he studied the red dots all over the maps. They were absolutely everywhere! In the training area, showing ring, market place, even just the roads to such places! There was no pattern, just sporadic and confusing chaos. Reports had been flooding in of recent years of a thief amongst the Furry-paws community. A raccoon to be exact. Where he came from, or what he did with the hundreds of dollars he stole from the breeds had yet to be answered. “Sir! Lieutenant Blade is here to see you. He’s also brought the guard from the detention kennel with him.” The secretary barked from a nearby microphone. Kirk placed his paw on the device and replied, “Good. Send them in.” With no time at all, the door to the Tracking Room opened and in strode Lieutenant Blade, a tall slim blue Doberman and next to him, a muscular American Pit Bull. From behind his desk, a basset’s hackles with up a bit at the sight of Lieutenant Blade’s companion. “A pit? Why he’d bring one of them here?” “An American Pit Bull, Mr. Tracker,” Kirk snapped at the basset. “Just a normal upstanding citizen as yourself.” Ashamed, the basset cowered and went back to his computer screen. Kirk gave a quick salute to the both of them. “My apologies sir,” he said. The dog just smiled and nodded in understanding, while Lieutenant Blade gave his report. “This is Mr. Spike, Captain. He’s the night guard at the detention facility. He says he has some information regarding our thief.” Kirk eyed Spike, and asked, “Where did this information come from?” The pit bull guard stood at attention. “This information was related to us through a deathbed confession of Ted Squirrel, Captain.” Kirk eyed the guard for a moment. “If I recall, Ted Squirrel was arrested and charged with an acorn assault case last June.” “That is correct Captain. He was given a year’s sentence, but suddenly died because of complications sir. Don’t believe the kennel was suited for a squirrel.” “I wouldn’t imagine so. What sort of information did he relay to you?” Mr. Spike reached back into his work vest, pulling out a small pale leaf and then handing it to Kirk. “This was all he gave us sir.” Kirk studied the leaf, on it; in minuscule writing was what appeared to be a web address. After examining it closely and sniffing it he glanced back up at the guard. “Where is it supposed to lead?” Lieutenant Blade answered for him. “We believe it is a ‘livestream’ account, Captain. Recently, a large amount of artists have been using them here in the community. We believe that it might allow us to see the culprit and his activities.” “And how do we know this is indeed our culprit’s account? What connection did Mr. Squirrel have with him?” “Both woodland creatures Captain, they share the trees so they could quite possibly have shared information.” “All right then. Let’s try it.” Within minutes, a SWAT team was prepared with only the best of breeds. German Shorthaired Pointers, Greyhounds and a couple of Labradors all gathered outside for their orders. Leading them was Lieutenant Blade, in full gear and a small concealed headset. “Awaiting orders Captain.” Inside the station, Kirk watched a large screen as the Chihuahuas in charge of the computer systems quickly hacked into the account. “We should be receiving a signal at almost any minute now.” The screen flicked for a moment and then focused on the back of a large stuffed chair. The chair slowly turned around to reveal a raccoon, the raccoon to be exact. The culprit smiled a toothy grin, as he tipped his felt fedora to the screen, holding a cigar to his mouth. “How ya doin’ Cap’n?” The raccoon spoke in a smooth Brooklyn accent, with gangster slang. Kirk growled at the screen, his hackles rising. “Are you the one whose been stealing currency from this community?” The raccoon just laughed and blew a puff of smoke into the air. “You might say ‘dat. I call it eh…economic stabilizing as it were.” “We’ve got the coordinates Captain,” a Chihuahua murmured under her breath. With a twitch of his tale, Kirk gave the signal to send the coordinates to the SWAT team. “And what gives you the right to do such a thing? Who are you anyways?” The raccoon grinned widely. “Who me? Ricky Raccone, pleased to meet ‘cha. Honestly I don’t know how we managed to miss each other Cap’n. I’ve been around quite a bit these days…” “SWAT Team is on the move sir.” “You won’t be around for to much longer, Mr. Raccone. You’re a thief and will be prosecuted.” Kirk said firmly. The raccoon gave a casual shrug. “Eh, I’m not the bad guy here. I just take a little here and there, make ‘em appreciate the dollar kapeesh? But see Cap’n, I’ll let you in on a little secret here,” Ricky leaned in close to the camera. “SWAT Team is two minutes away and closing.” “I’m just a different kind of Santa Claus”. The screen suddenly went to static as Lieutenant Blade’s voice started crackling through Kirk’s headset, “There’s something in the grass sir! But it’s sure not grass…well oh my dog…” “Watch the language Lieutenant, is the target contained?” “Negative sir. But we have hit the Jackpot. The pointers found over $20,000 dollars sir….wonder who left it here…” Fourth Place No Title Author: Janellanti #816805 Roger looked around him at the hungry dogs. “Sorry guys, It’s slim pickings again today” he told them. He measured a small amount of food into each dish and filled their water up. Then he picked up the paper and turned to the want ads. “Donations are way down. I need to find a job to help pay for food for you guys.” Outside his window, hidden high in a tree, Victor watched and listened. He looked at the grey dreary building that said ‘Canine Adoption Center. Furry Paws Humane Society’. His mind wandered over what he had seen happening. At first the two legs would put the green paper in the box. And the dogs ate well. Victor liked to play with the puppies. But lately, there was no green paper and the puppies had no energy to play. Victor did not understand why, but it seemed green paper ensured the dogs ate. Victor thought and thought. He went wandering through the town and looked at all the people. He saw someone drop a green paper and dashed out to grab it. As he wandered, a few more papers were here and there. Victor grabbed them all and hurried back to the dog home. He looked around carefully, and when he was sure no-one was watching, he put the papers in the box. Then he dashed into his hidey hole. Roger came out and looked into the box hopelessly. Suddenly he yipped “yay! Guys, there’s some donations. Be right back, gonna go buy more food.’ Roger came back a while later and Victor watched him feed the dogs, careful not to overfeed them. When Roger went inside, Victor headed to the puppies. Today the puppies were happy and full. They played with Victor and napped. While he hunted down his own food, Victor thought some more. He decided that he would go looking for more green paper the next day. When he got up the next day, he watched Roger feed the dogs. Today they got a good meal. He watched as a man with a clipboard came. The man talked to Roger. Roger seemed upset. “You get these dogs their shots within 48 hours, or I’ll have them put down. Nasty animals! 48 hours you hear me?” The man yelled. Roger nodded. He went inside and pulled out the green paper he had left. He moved it around and looked at it. Then he put it away and headed into town. Victor went on a walk into town himself. He looked around and found green papers. Then he noticed something interesting. Some of the two legs had green paper sticking out of them. Carefully he maneuvered closer to one. A last sudden dash, a hand-claw grabbing the papers and off he ran with a lot of it! “HEY, that raccoon stole some of my money!” Victor popped the green paper in the box and went out again. It was more fun to grab it from a two leg, than to find it on the ground. Victor grabbed 3 more times. His success varied from one to a lot of papers. He put it all in the box and waited in his tree. Roger came home late in the day. He was covered in mud and seemed very tired. He went inside and added more green paper to the stash he had. “Not quite enough” he muttered. He looked toward the door, where the donation box was. “Probably nothing there, what’s the chances of a generous person 2 days in a row? Still..” When he opened the box Roger was shocked. There was a decent amount of money there. With what he already had, he could get the dogs their shots and perhaps a toy or two? Well, maybe not the toys, better to keep the extra to keep food on hand. Still perhaps he’d buy a can of bright yellow paint and repaint the sign. Perhaps the yellow would bring more people in, and some of the dogs would get a home. Every day or two now, Victor would go into town and play his game of paper grab. When he put the paper in the box, the dogs got plenty of food, and the puppies played more. Now Victor had a mate and 4 kits. His kits liked to play with puppies also. Their mother was hesitant, but accepting. With the bright yellow paint, a few people dropped by and looked at the dogs. Some of the dogs left with those people. Roger painted the building a nice bright gold and made the sign a pretty copper. Although more dogs were dropped off, usually in the middle of the night, many dogs were finding a home. Every time he found green paper in the box, Roger would say a loud ‘Thank you!” and Victor took it personally. He started teaching his kits to play the paper game. It was a fun game for raccoons. It sometimes seemed the two legs enjoyed it also. Victor would hear them talking about it. They would always seem proud it they lost the game, and condescending to those who hadn’t played yet. Two legs are strange, he thought. Still, as he looked at his kits, and at the young puppies in the runs, he was glad to have thought of this game. A Matter of Food Author: Dragon’s Wing #374272 A bright new day was dawning over the land of Furry Paws. The shops were opening, dogs were stretching and magical white rabbits were preparing for a day of wild chases. One of the first dogs to stumble across a white rabbit that day was the one and only Chili. When she spotted the rabbit she took off after it, barking joyfully as she dashed through the rolling green fields near the old ruins. Normally the rabbits stopped their flight pretty quickly and blessed the dog with increased skills, but it was such a gorgeous day that the rabbit decided to keep going a little further. Past the ruins he ran, with Chili in hot pursuit. Once past the ruins they entered a forest. Eventually the rabbit came to a sunny glade, where he slid to a stop with a soft *poof*, and Chili could feel her strength increase a little bit. Satisfied with the chase, she turned toward home. But Chili’s adventure had not gone unnoticed. Redgie the Raccoon, who had never seen a dog before, had just woken up when the rabbit and Chili appeared. He was fascinated by this large, noisy creature, and decided to follow her. Coming into Furry Paws was quite the experience for Redgie. He had spent his whole life in the forest and stealing food from some of the humans that lived on the other side, which was a boring place, filled with cookie-cutter houses with neatly trimmed hedges surrounding postage stamp yards. They had had a spay-neuter law passed many years ago, and now there were no dogs at all in that sad town. But in this new place they were everywhere! Redgie continued to follow Chili, carefully keeping out of sight as he took in all the amazing things around him. First he gazed in awe at the ancient ruins, which had a magical air about them. The closer they got to the main town, the more houses there were – or rather, kennels! They came in every shape and size, from neatly fenced runs surrounding small, professional-looking buildings to large mansions with dogs peering out the windows and lounging on sofas. Some dogs ran on zip lines and others frolicked in fenced yards, while still others jogged past with their humans. And the dogs themselves! From ones smaller than himself to ones four times his size, they came in every color and pattern imaginable, long-haired, short-haired and wire-haired. Redgie decided at once that he liked this place, with all its interesting dwellings and delightfully noisy and fascinating dogs. By this time Redgie had lost track of Chili, but he didn’t mind, and set to exploring his new home. He spent a wonderful day wandering through the town, checking out all of the different buildings and watching dogs come and go. But it was only a matter of time before something more urgent came to Redgie’s mind – food. All this following and gawking and exploring had made him very hungry. Without thinking twice, he slipped into a small house that advertised itself as a Chihuahua kennel, snuck into the kitchen, grabbed a few cans of dog food from the cupboard and made his escape. Dog food turned out to be pretty tasty to a raccoon, and from then on whenever he was hungry he just helped himself to the nearest kennel. A few days later, a Sheltie spotted him. He was just exiting a distinguished Victorian when he heard a shrill voice bark, “Help! He’s stealing our food!” But the Sheltie couldn’t fit through the narrow opening in the window, and Redgie got away. Weeks went by, with Redgie wandering throughout Furry Paws and stealing food when he was hungry, occasionally being spotted by the dogs. But eventually Redgie’s luck ran out. As he cautiously opened the cupboard in a Coonhound kennel, he was suddenly grabbed by the scruff of his neck and yanked into the air. “Gotcha!” bayed his captor. “No more stealing for you.” The Coonhound brought Redgie before the Dog Council. His thievery had already been brought to their attention, as it was causing some problems in Furry Paws – if kennels didn’t have food, their dogs obviously couldn’t eat. For larger kennels the amount of food that Redgie took wasn’t much of a problem, but smaller kennels or ones with dogs that needed special food could be in serious trouble if the required food was missing. Since Redgie was a newcomer to Furry Paws, they decided to give him a break, but warned him that he would have to stop stealing food, as it was causing dogs to go hungry and people to waste money on extra trips into town to buy food. Embarrassed and a little frightened by his encounter with the Coonhound, Redgie left the Council and hid in the trees by the ruins. But soon enough Redgie was hungry again. The only way he knew to get food was to steal, as his family had always done, but the Dog Council had expressly said that he couldn’t steal food any more. He thought about this for a while, pacing and kicking small stones. When he didn’t come up with a solution, he decided to walk into town. As he passed by the food shop he suddenly had an idea – the Council may have said he couldn’t steal food, but they never said anything about money, and money was what the humans bought food with! That night Redgie snuck into a house and stole a little money. The next morning he went to one of the small private shops. At first he thought about trying to buy food, but decided a human-raccoon transaction might get complicated, so instead he just took some food from the storeroom and left the money in its place. This went on for some time, and ultimately the case of the vanishing money was brought before the Dog Council. They figured it was Redgie, but weren’t sure there was anything they could do. He was a raccoon after all, and at least if he was only taking small amounts of money that meant that the kennels still had the food they needed for their dogs. Although a criminal, by leaving the money for the shop owners Redgie showed that he wasn’t a malicious criminal. So the Council decided to just grin and bear it, and Redgie has been tolerated ever since. Fifth Place The Unfortunately Unfortunate Treasure Author: Ailyse #439265 The evening air was cool, enhanced by a slight breeze rustling through the alley of a small town. Barking of dogs could be heard regularly, a few passersby walking their dogs past a restaurant’s alley. Leaves tussled softly on the ground, scratching the cracked pavement between a dumpster and the alley’s brick wall. A flashing sign cast a glow on the three men leaning against the alley’s wall, hidden by shadows. All three were dressed in good quality suits, noticeable even in the dimmest evening light. Two were crouched against the wall, the third leaned against it, his hands in his pockets. One of the crouched men stood up, casually stretching. “Well boys, we’re plum outta luck. We need money to pay the bank else our business is being forced to close from bankruptcy. Our client tonight was our last hope...any ideas?” The other crouching man slowly stood up. “Told you we needed to get some good luck charms...a nice horseshoe woulda helped us out”. “Ryan, we already told you, charms don’t sell products. People like us do”. “Well, obviously not Joe. Else we wouldn’t be in this pickle of a problem”. “Enough, both of you”. The crouched man sighed heavily, and stood up. He rested the back of his head against the wall, his eyes relaxed and unfocused, as though deep in thought. Ryan and Joe cast a glance to their friend. “I know this looks bad, but we’ll pull through. We’ve always had people to help us out”. “Eddie, I don’t know if you’re in touch with reality, but no one is lending us money anymore. The business of selling customized thimbles is dropping faster than a rock in water. Between ipods and computers there’s not enough people who need thimbles for hobbies anymore”. Joe shook his head, disappointed of their predicament. “Whatever happened to the good old days where old hobbies were passed down from generation to generation?” Ryan pondered out loud. “I have a solution”. Eddie stated. Both men had his attention. They both leaned slightly forward as though straining to hear the answer to their prayers. Eddie calmly told them. “Mrs. Rowbuckle”. Joe and Ryan looked at each other. They looked back at Eddie, who was still calm. “We can’t, you’ve heard the stories”. Ryan said. “Ryan, you’re being superstitious. But you do have a point. She’s not the most...sane of people. Besides, how do we get her to buy over a thousand thimbles to meet our quota?” Joe asked. “She’s not buying anything. Rather, she HAS something. Like you said Ryan, there are stories...and we got enough smarts to distract her with”. Eddie replied. Ryan’s eyes went wide. “The black box? Surely you’re not...we’re not that desperate!”. Ryan was shocked. “Give me another answer. It’s a small town, we’re not making it big, and no one wants to help us out anymore”. Eddie stated. It was said Mrs. Rowbuckle kept a black box under her bed, passed down from an ancestor in the family. It was said to be the source of unimaginable wealth, filled with treasure from centuries ago, and that whoever this box was given to would get all the wealth it contained. Rumour also had it Mrs. Rowbuckle knew curses, also passed down through the family, and had cursed the box if ever it was stolen or taken without permission. To the locals knowledge, no had ever tried to take it for this reason. Her farmhouse was a good couple miles out of town, and she was only ever seen selling her produce to the local grocery store. She had always been strange, mumbling paranoid comments to herself. Even the animals seemed to avoid her. Ryan shook his head. “I won’t be a part of it. I don’t mess with voodoo and crazy old ladies with black boxes. Call me when you’ve regained your senses. Joe, you coming?” Joe sighed. “JOE!?” Ryan’s voice sounded panicked. “What time Eddie?”. Joe looked to the very shocked Ryan. “Sorry man, he’s got a point, and we’re low on choices. We get that black box all our problems are solved”. Ryan shook his head. He walked away, waving his hand at them. “Don’t come crying to me when you’ve been turned into pink lizards or some such”. He crossed the street and vanished down the road. The two men didn’t know it, but that was the last time they would see their friend. Early next morning, the men were at Mrs. Rowbuckle’s door. The wooden steps creaked under their feet. Eddie opened the screen door, creaking loudly, and knocked on the hardwood door, letting the screen fall shut again. They breathed deep, having rehearsed well into the night of how to approach the situation. With the help of Joe’s charismatic skills and a box of thimbles, they hoped to distract her long enough for Eddie to grab the box and drop it out the window. They would then sneak around and grab the box after they were done. The inside door opened and a hunched elderly woman with a bony figure peered at them through the screen. She wore a hand knitted shawl over an old dress, with an apron around her waist. She wiped her hands in it. “Yes?” her voice crackled, almost like a witch. “Uh, good day, Mrs. Rowbuckle. My associate and I wondered if we could have a moment of your time”. She cast her glance to the box of thimbles. She slowly nodded. “Thimble salesmen, eh? Well I don’t see the harm. Come on in, coffee? Tea?” She turned from the door, heading to the kitchen in the back room. “Yes please ma’am, coffee. Thank you”. Joe politely called after her. The men entered, immediately smelling the coffee roasting and food cooking in the oven. The sun’s rays displayed the dust floating through the air. Both men looked at the outdated but plainly decorated inside, and sat down in the living room couch, which was upholstered in an outdated and drab pattern. The lady promptly returned with coffee. “So you boys selling thimbles then? What kind?”. She sat down in front of them in a matching chair. “Any kind you like”. Joe showed her the box, placing it on the coffee table, taking out the different styles and shapes of thimbles they had. Eddie took his cue. “I hate to be a bother ma’am, but may I use the restroom?”. He made an effort to sound very innocent and polite. She nodded. “Down the hall to the left. Don’t touch anything!” Eddie quickly glanced at Joe, and politely excused himself. So far so good, he thought as he headed down the hallway, noting she watched him follow her instructions. When he got to the bathroom, he noticed her bedroom was straight through. He slowly made his way in, closing the door of the bathroom behind him. Ok, now to find the box. He saw the bed, covered in thick blue sheets, which smelled of age. His heart pounding, he leaned under the bed and saw it. Swallowing hard he pulled it out, noting the wood was very plainly carved to shape, and as the rumours had stated, black as night. He looked up at the window, getting up to drop it out. The he felt something. He watched his hands being drawn...pulled to the lid. Well, one peek won’t hurt. Slowly he pulled off the lid, and saw...NOTHING! His thumping heart stopped and his eyes almost popped out of his skull. He heard a noise at the door...and froze. Mrs. Rowbuckle was staring right at him, and she pointed her finger at him and screeched. “THIEF! THIEF!!”. Something happened. His hands grew smaller, the box bigger. He felt itchy all over, and started scratching furiously. It became intolerable, so he pried off his shirt. He gasped at his chest, rapidly growing long hair. He felt his legs shrinking, his clothes becoming looser by the minute. Frightened, he yelled out: “JOE! Help!!” His voice felt small, squeaky even. He looked up at the woman who was now three heads taller than him. “He’s sleeping soundly. Should watch what you drink, sleeping pills can really knock you out”. Eddie panicked. He tried to run past her, only to collapse on the floor, shrinking until he felt his body slide out of loose fabric. He stared up helplessly at the woman. She was glaring down at him, shaking her head. He tried to demand an explanation, but only chirps came out. She sneered at him. “You fool. You’re all fools. You think just anyone can have my wealth?” She marched over to the box, and showed him the inside. It was filled with jewels, gold, and rare stones like he’d never seen before! Their shine nearly blinded him. She closed the lid. “You see, the box is magic. It only shows its wealth to those who have earned it by being hard working and honest. It will not show to scum and thieves, no matter how desperate the need for riches”. She leaned down and picked him up by the scruff of his neck. It surprisingly didn’t hurt, just felt awkward, though her sudden strength astounded him. She stared him in the eyes. “Now you are cursed. You must fill the box with the amount you wanted to steal. Since that is always the whole amount, you will be filling it for a very, very long time. Oh, and don’t worry about your friend, he’ll be joining you. After all, there’s a reason there are so many raccoons in this world”. She smiled devilishly. “So fitting for a thief don’t you think?”. Such was Eddie and Joe’s fate. As for Ryan, he became a chef for dog food for the small town, and became a millionaire. But he never did find out what happened to his friends that went missing the day they went to Mrs. Rowbuckle’s house. Now all would be well if he wasn’t regularly robbed by raccoons!! Thanks to everybody who entered, and watch out for another one soon! The Mods.